


Another One

by Silv3r_Cloud



Category: Mothman (Folklore)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Character Death, Gen, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24368071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silv3r_Cloud/pseuds/Silv3r_Cloud
Summary: Summary:In and out. Inhale and exhale. Spatula scraping against the pan, a reminder how the buildings collapsed, people screaming, a child crying and he can't reach him quickly oh god—I-in and o-out. Inhal— a sob finally broke through and he hurriedly turned off the stove, collapsing on the floor ignoring the puddle of blood slowly forming around his body.Or how the hero, Mothman, saved thousands of lives, but could not save a single child
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6
Collections: the ultimate mothman fucker works





	Another One

Deep breaths. In and out. Ignoring the storm brewing beneath his chest, he grabs the soy sauce and added it and some spices into the pan. 

In and out. Inhale, exhale. He can do this, he will. Ignoring the shedding of silver in his back, the oozing roses of blood from the gnawing cuts, the painful fluttering of his wings, the tightness in his chest, he grabs the chopped meat and tried to forget how he failed again— **again and again and again**.

In and out. Inhale and exhale. Spatula scraping against the pan, a reminder how the _buildings collapsed, people screaming, a child crying and he can't reach him quickly oh god—_

In and out. Inhale and exhale. _Drip, drip._ Oh, he cut himself. Blankly staring at the little metallic crimson from the cut, numbly feels the mild sting, he shudders as an image of a smiling boy flashes through his mind, biting down a keen threatening to rise from his throat. Walking sluggishly he opens his fridge and takes a pitcher of water. Ignoring the shaking of his hands, the blood on the fridge door, he drank straight from the lid and set it aside. He stumbled to the stove again. 

I-in and o-out. Inhal— a sob finally broke through and he hurriedly turned off the stove, collapsing on the floor ignoring the puddle of blood slowly forming around his body.

* * *

  
Exhausted and utterly spent, the hero didn't expect a young child bouncing towards him and—is that excitement? why is he excited to see a monster like me—. A child that was smiling as he babbled excitedly about being his number one fan and how cool and soft his fur looks and _can he touch it pretty please? Oh! I'm Ethan_. A child who offered a pen and a marker asking for an autograph. Thinking that it was relatively peaceful, ignoring the exhaustion (the villain earlier was tiring and he was about to patch himself up because holy shit he thinks he has a concussion and is that blood on his back—) and it couldn't hurt to indulge a cute fan, grabbed the paper and marker and looked away from the child and scribbles his name. Just as his gaze landed on the child he watched as the world seems to lose focus and slowed as he watched with rapidly widening eyes as a man with sharp metal claws, gleaming eyes stabbed through the soft— _does a person have that much blood—_ chest of the kid who looks no older than 12 and no **nonononononoN _oNoNOONO KID NO_**

He reacted quickly — _did he really? He was too late the kid was down already and the blood please hold on kid_ — and punched the face of the villain, over and over again, over and over and over until small cries and wet coughs stopped the red haze that enveloped him.

Ignoring the crowd gathering, someone calling the ambulance, mothers crying, the police cuffing and hauling the madman through the wailing car. He knelt and gathered the child _**(he's so young** , a taunting voice in his head said. **It's your fault** , it added maliciously)_ in his arms and with a big beat of his wings he took off and speed to the hospital that was so fucking far why is it so far and damn you don't give in now body—.

"M—mothman **cough**?"

"Save your breath child we're almost there. Dammit! Fly you fucking excuse of a wings..."

"T—thank you f—for keeping m—me compa— **cough** ny, s-saving people e—even if they are m—meanies and you being n-nice"

Fear, adrenaline, and panic, he willed his wings to beat faster and faster. Blocking out the biting winds, people pointing and shoving cameras their way, the metallic scent of blood.

Finally, _fucking finally_ , he saw the blinding white paint of the hospital walls and bursted through the doors not caring on how the blood was seeping through an expensive rug.

"SAVE HIM ANYONE"

He didn't noticed how they took the child from him or how he swayed, adrenaline wearing off and snarled at anyone touching him.

Nurses and doctors quickly wheeled the child in the emergency room and in a daze he followed them and plopped outside the waiting room. He vaguely remembered how a nurse inquired about his injuries but couldn't step closer because of the fear (even if he's a hero he's not always welcomed because of his monstrous disgusting form, that's why he was fascinated with t—the c—child)

Hours, _or is it just a few minutes he didn't know but it feels so long_ —, until a doctor wearily stepped out, tugging of his medical mask, and before he even uttered apologies or even reassurances **he knew.**

He knew somewhere inside his exhausted mind that he felt even before they reached the building, he felt how the blood continuously rushed out the small body (later on he'll realize that was not normal), and how the small breathes and pulse slowed to a stop a few seconds till they touched down.

Somethings breaks inside him ( _ **another one** , the voice laughingly said, shut up **SHUT UP**_ ).

He didn't remember walking out the hospital. He didn't remember dripping blood everywhere when he went in an autopilot to his abandoned looking flat. He didn't noticed or cared on how the people keep whispering some jeering, some mocking, some asking if he's alright. 

He didn't noticed how he automatically went to the fridge, grabbing ingredients for a steak, thinking dazedly about how his Ma cooked this after his father weekly beatings. He just...didn't notice.

Later on, as his friend Mike bursted through the doors saying _Yo are you okay i saw the news— oh fuck you're not, come here_ , patched him up as best as he can because he already feels his regeneration taking place and took care of the mess he called home. Ushering him to go to bed and _Eh I'll be here till you're awake my bro go on shoo shoo,_ not noticing the worried gaze staring till he was gone from sight.

 _He's just a kid_. He stared blankly at the wall, tears dripping from his red eyes.

He didn't slept a wink

**Author's Note:**

> Damn this was originally a crack fic and i was supposed to be sleeping—
> 
> Oh well. Enjoy my first fic (it's trash i know)


End file.
